


Demon Patrol - Settlement

by Asuka Kureru (Askerian)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sexual Frustration, Xeno, demon!kankri - Freeform, summoner!rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3477494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askerian/pseuds/Asuka%20Kureru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’ll take the lead," she says, for clarity’s sake and because she knows better than to assume Kankri will in any way appreciate non-verbal exchanges and unchecked assumptions, even when the both of them know exactly what the other one is planning already.</p><p>--<br/>Kiss Meme response, set in the Midnight on the Demon Patrol universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demon Patrol - Settlement

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: A flush Rosekri kiss set in MotDP?
> 
> … ok so it turned out like almost 1.3k long and almost R-rated. :X also some dubcon in that kankri consents to the kiss but he’s still not pleased that it has to happen.
> 
> (fic's [here](archiveofourown.org/works/625941), mainly davekat. demons can feed on sexual energy.)

"I’m sorry it has to come to this," she says, and even halfway means it. 

It’s just a kiss, and she already knows that it won’t physically or metaphysically _harm_ Kankri; the revulsion he feels is entirely a matter of taste and stubbornness. Still, laughing at his squeamishness when she takes care of her own needs is one thing, but she doesn’t especially enjoy making him squirm through actual physical advances that she is actively making on him.

"Apologizing when you have neither the means nor the will to change the situation," Kankri starts, full of indignant fire; and then deflates. "I feel we may well go in circles until the deadline has passed at this rate," he mutters. The last third of his tail is coiled in on itself in a way she didn’t think it was bendy enough to attain, a Gordian knot of hard, bright chitin and blades.

"I agree," she says.

They sit in silence for a handful of seconds, looking at each other. Rose is sitting on the couch, hands on her thighs; Kankri is in the armchair. He has no intention to go anywhere, especially not to her.

"I’ll take the lead," she says, for clarity’s sake and because she knows better than to assume Kankri will in any way appreciate non-verbal exchanges and unchecked assumptions, even when the both of them know exactly what the other one is planning already.

Then she stands, and she walks to him, and straddles his hard, shelled thighs. Her pencil skirt slides up her pantyhose. She lets herself enjoy the feel, the sight.

It’s going to be worthless a kiss if it’s a chaste one.

She laces her fingers at the back of his neck; all his spinal blades are standing up like a bristling cat, there’s space for her fingers and then some.

A curl of black hair licks the touch of armor on his cheekbone. She allows herself to linger on his chin, the fullness of his lips, the ridiculous thickness of his eyelashes. There’s a small upturn in his nose, and his nostrils flare — scenting a predator. He is so ridiculously _pretty_.

It’s a good thing she likes “pretty” in her partners. Because behind all that he is still Kankri.

"I, ah, suppose it’s good that you’re able to _totally ignore_ your usual preference for partners, and that it seems relatively _easy_ for you—”

Rose chuckles quietly. He’s panicking; he’s still utterly unmoving, only his eyes roaming to the sides in search of escape. “Kankri… One, since when do you identify as a human-style male, and second, bisexuality is still a thing that applies to me.”

"I never said I identified as a human-style male — I assume you mean a _cissexual_ one? — but you cannot deny that my body type is rather more common in — in…”

She has her fingers in the thick hair at the back of his head, and she scratches and pets at the edge of his armor until he lets out a shuddering breath.

"Bisexual means the point is moot, I suppose," he says, a little lower, a little calmer. "Though really, I’m not human-gendered at all, so maybe you would be better served with a pansexual label…?"

"Wouldn’t that imply I’m attracted to you at all times, and not just when I’m deliberately trying to be?" Rose says, and bops their noses together because she can, and because he’s ridiculous, and because he’s hers.

He sputters. They’re so close that the tip of her nose is lit in red from the glow of his eyes. “Well — uh. You. You may certainly be pansexual without being attracted to _everyone!_ Merely to every _category_.”

Rose nods wisely, shuffles a little closer to his chest. She wouldn’t mind him holding her, but she thinks the armchair’s arms would come off with if he took his hands off them right now, he’s clinging so hard.

"The Vantas demon category, or merely the incarnate demon one? Either way I think Dave would be pretty jealous if I started flirting with Karkat."

She expects haughty harrumphing, maybe some defensiveness of his Aspect compatriot, isn’t surprised; Kankri twitches bodily, glares at her. “You will _not_.”

"Hmm?"

"Karkat has no need to steal my — my _sustenance_ , he has his own, he can make do!”

"But I thought we were talking about attraction," Rose says, because it’s her hugest flaw that she cannot stop teasing when someone makes it so easy.

Kankri actually growls, a sound that has less in common with the ones coming from big dogs and more with the ones from angry rattlesnakes, with maybe a bear thrown in for the bass undertone.

She doesn’t want him upset for real, and her distractions are only dragging things on. “Shhh,” she says, nose to nose, and she pets the back of his head. “I have no interest in Karkat.”

“ _Good_.”

A pause, a blink.

"Not that I wish to control your—"

Rose kisses him, light and gentle to start with.

It’s just a kiss, but it cannot be a chaste one.

"Open yourself to me, Kankri Vantas, Seer of Blood," she whispers against his lips, and winds around herself the name of his soul, that arid desert where nothing has ever lived.

She presses against his chest, hard plastron and tender belly; she enjoys the feel of her breasts squeezed between them.

 _It won’t hurt_ , she thinks, but in his eyes she can read _that’s what I’m afraid of_.

She coaxes his black lips open, purple lipstick smudging on him, and she teases the tips of his fangs. He runs hot, though not quite fever-warm, and she thinks, deliberately, of his teeth leaving marks on her skin, of exploring all his tender, secret places .

When she kisses him she invokes the thought of fingerfucking him and herself in rhythm, one to each of her hands, and hearing him whimper and beg, and she feels desire wake inside her, a warm clenching need.

Then slowly, she licks her way out of his mouth and leans back.

She wouldn’t mind touching herself. She isn’t going to. This is his — her unfulfilled desire of him, the sheer frustration of it, the rising power forbidden to bloom.

"Kankri?" she says, voice quieter, more intimate than she wanted.

He shudders, eyes closed, lip caught between his teeth, and he — “Will you allow me—”

“ _Yes_.”

He catches her hips between his hands and he guides her hips to roll on his unyielding thigh, and she presses and rocks with him, and she kisses him again so he can drink the power of her mounting pleasure right off her.

"If this goes on much longer I will actually come," she says, three or five minutes later, breathing unsteady and full of amused regret.

Kankri tips her right off his lap when he jumps to his feet, and catches her just before she lands in the cage of his claws and the curve of his tail, and they both topple to the carpeted floor.

His eyes are wide with shock and bright like flames as he stands over her on hands and knees, wings flared out.

"… I see you might not mind," she teases, because she can’t help it.

Two seconds later she’s alone in the room and he’s stomping his way upstairs, ranting at the top of his voice in half-sentences that mean very little.

She figures that means his meal was satisfactory. She sighs a little, and sits up, and goes to see if she has taxes paperwork to take care of.


End file.
